Young Offender
by J-Chan7
Summary: An original character of mine, Blaire, finds answers to questions that weren't necessarily asked. Set in a Pretender universe.


Young Offender- Lyrics by New Order and in _italics._  
Story by J-Chan, characters are © their respective owners, The Center, etc. are © whoever owns them.  
  
"It seems as if my whole life has passed me by and I didn't even know it. In a sense, it has. I don't even know how old I am. I could be anywhere from 17 to 23.. at least, that's my guess. I lived in seclusion my entire life, and I must admit, now that I'm out.. I'm scared. I don't really understand anything. I may be smart, but.. it's just an information overload, I guess.."  
  
  
_Pictures of an image of a person  
Who could not be blamed  
_   
  
"And that's why the kept you there, Blaire? Because you were so smart?"  
  
"I guess so.. from what they told me, my mother left me there as a child.. like.. like she didn't even want me."  
  
".."  
"I know this is probably more than you wanted to know.."  
  
"It's fine. I asked you to tell me about who you are."  
  
"And I told you, I don't know."  
  
"Just tell me what you do know."  
  
"I know.. that I was a failure."  
  
"..Oh?"  
  
"That was the reason I never had one teacher.. because I was a failure."  
  
"I'm sure that's not the reason.."  
  
"I have a tape, Crispin. I hate documented footage of someone saying what a failure I am."  
  
"Let me see it."  
  
"..I don't know I can watch it again."  
  
"Let me see it." He half-growled.  
  
  
_You are a color and you are a number  
We need a sanction to see one another  
_   
  
Submissively, she stood and walked into her room, almost dragging herself. Blaire struggled not to break down and cry again.. something she found herself doing often. Visions of the tape flashed through her mind.. and once again she doubted whether she could bring herself to watch it. Grabbing up the laptop and a few of the DSA discs, she ignored the stinging hot tears running down her face. Clutching the computer it to her chest, Blaire exited the room, returning to where Crispin sat.  
  
"Stop crying." He ordered.  
  
She blinked at him, eyes wide. The tears immediatley ceased.   
  
"Give me the tape."  
  
She handed both the laptop and the discs over. "It's.. it's number 14.."  
  
He grunted in response and shoved in the according tape. A black and white image flickered onto the screen, an older man, though not elderly, stared into the camera. His eyes were almost slits, their piercing pupils seeming to burn right through the camera.   
  
"I am being forced to discontinue my training of number two six five four, Blaire Hallock. I will be handing her over to one of my colleauges by the end of this week. She is a failure. She hasn't moved at the same speed as any of my other subjects. She will not kill and cannot even think about hurting another human. I have tried to drive it out of her with negative reinforcement, but she only cries. It disgusts me."  
  
  
_If I keep my distance in the season of this slender hell  
It's because of the need to live off one another  
Go home young offender and stay undercover  
_   
  
Crispin turned, looking over at Blaire. She was still crying, but this time he did not yell at her. Silently and coldly, he turned away, returning to watching the tape.  
  
"I have placed her in solitary confinement for the time being." The man said, glaring over at a door in the wall. "She's taken to talking to herself. I think I may be driving her insane." A thin smile, almost inconsistent with the man's whole demeanor, spread across his lips. "Excellent."  
  
The tape ended and Crispin closed the laptop. After a few moments of silence, he suddenly proclaimed. "..Well.."  
  
Blaire didn't even acknowledge him, and continued to stare at the floor, tears gently falling down her cheeks. Turning to meet his gaze, she blinked once. Without speaking, she stood again and retreated back to her room.   
  
  
_We're busy running out of time  
(Whatever it takes, I will make you mine)  
I'll take the future from your hands  
(All the things I've ever had, I can make the perfect crime)  
_   
  
Crispin sighed once, watching her leave. He had to admit, at least her presence was comforting. Now.. now she was crying. She was hurt.. because he had made her watch that tape again.   
  
Quieting any and all surfacing emotions, he got up, pushing away the hair falling in his face.. His head swirled with a myriad of thoughts and feelings, all of which he tried to suppress. The only expression on his face was one of cold indifference.   
  
The young man made his way into the kitchen and fixed himself a glass of water, the slightly cold liquid slid down his throat, but didn't yield the result that he was hoping for. His only solace would come away from the tribulation of every day life. It would come in his sleep.. at least.. he hoped it would.   
  
He caught himself stealing a glance down the hall at Blaire's room, and immediatley jerked his head away. Mentally berating himself, Crispin closed his eyes and sat back down on the couch. Fumbling with the remote, he switched on the TV.   
  
  
_We're strong, we do our thing  
Let the world cry, watch the birds sing  
Give me the freedom, I need to recover  
Words cannot heal, when a line is your lover  
_   
  
He stared at the screen for a brief space of time before he realized something was wrong. He turned off the TV and stopped to listen. Something was missing.. it was too quiet.  
  
His eyes widened in realization..  
  
Blaire had stopped crying.  
  
Crispin thought for a moment before jumping to any conclusions.. Either she had gone to sleep, realized the silliness of her actions, or.. and with her history of mental 'problems', this was the most likely.. something was very wrong.. Hoping to be more safe than sorry, he started down the hallway to her room.  
  
Blaire sat in a corner of her room, arms wrapped around herself and totally unaware of Crispin's approaching. A knife lay next to her..She thought for a moment, and picked it up, looking at her reflection in the cold steel. Her mind rushed with the implications of her actions.. This time, she thought, she'd do it. This time, she wouldn't let herself live…Suddenly, her door creaked open. She dropped the knife and slid it under her bed silently.   
A familiar face peeked into the room. "Blaire..?"  
  
"I'm here." She said softly.  
  
Crispin entered the room, glancing around. The lights were off and the shades were drawn shut. The lack of lights and the dull monotony of the room intensified the sadness and morosity seeming to seep out from the walls. She avoided his gaze like the plague, staying confined to the shadows and darkness of her corner.  
  
He moved over to her and kneeled, practically forcing her to look him in the eyes. "Blaire.." he said again, this time in a more soothing and comforting manner.  
  
"What do you want?" She said sharply.  
  
"Don't do this."  
  
"Do what? Sit here?"   
"Don't torture yourself like this."  
  
  
_Wind howls in my chamber like an angel  
(like an angel)  
You are a colour and you are a number  
_   
  
"I'm not doing anything."  
  
He sighed and reached under her bed, pulling out the knife. Shock registered in her eyes, and she attempted to hide it by looking away again.. "It's for protection.."   
  
"Don't lie to me." Crispin partially snarled. He roughly grabbed her wrists and pulled back the sleeve of her emerald green sweater, revealing precisely-cut linear scars on her delicate arms. She jerked her wrists out of his hand and crossed it over her chest.   
  
"That's from The Centre.."  
  
"Bullshit.. it would've healed by now."  
  
She said nothing, her head cast down. A shiver ran across her body.  
  
"Stop hurting yourself, Blaire.. you've been hurt enough already."  
  
And with that, he stood, still holding the knife. Quietly, the young man left the eerie darkness of her room, as well as the childlike figure still huddled in the corner..  
  
  
_Go home young offender and stay undercover  
_


End file.
